"Nan: The Trifling Times of Nathan Jones, written by Moses Miller, is in stores now!!!!
Part 2 of 4. Digangi, Dickson, and Rodriguez quickly exited through the rear of the van. They discreetly entered the small apartment house vestibule, and quietly made their way up to the third floor via the steps. It was fairly quiet inside. They faintly heard the sounds of minor commotion as they made their way upstairs. Reaching the third floor landing, they pulled their guns out, slowly walking down the dimly lit narrow hallway.
Rodriguez gripped the barrel of her Mossberg shotgun, the stock handle concealed perfectly under her armpit. Her 9mm was holstered on her waist. There were three apartments on this floor, but they were looking specifically for 3B, which was located at the far end of the hall. Dickson holstered his glock, and pulled out a solid steel battering ram that he had hidden in an oversized black duffel bag he carried on his back.
As he grasped the ram tightly in his black hands, he looked over his shoulder at Rodriguez and Digangi.
“On three,” he whispered, just loud enough for only them to hear. Sweat beads were visibly forming on both of their foreheads, as they anxiously stood behind Dickson with their guns drawn.
“One,” Dickson mouthed, as Rodriguez used her free hand to bring the gold charm that hung from her neck, up to her lips in order to kiss it.
“Two.” As the word left Dickson’s mouth, Digangi the only white cop in the group, used the back of his shaky hand to wipe the sweat off of his brow. In order to muster up some saliva, he tried to swallow, but the inside of his mouth was bone dry from anxiety.
“Th…three,” he whispered as he swung the battering ram swiftly, sending it forward with all his might. It smashed into the door, making a loud crashing noise upon impact. Wooden shards from the doorframe splintered into the air, as the metal door swung forward. Digangi and Rodriguez quickly entered into the one bedroom apartment, each of them heading in opposite directions as they surveyed the surroundings with their guns drawn. Dickson pulled out his gun, and stood guard by the front door, which he closed behind him.
The blissful sleep that Leslie had drifted into after the lovemaking session with Nan, was broken by the loud bang that reverberated throughout the apartment. Concerned, she yelled out his name. She waited a few seconds, but received no response. Hesitantly, she pulled the comforter and wrapped it around her body, concealing her nakedness as she got up off of the bed. Nan never left for work without kissing her goodbye. This concerned her greatly.
“Nathan,” she yelled out again, as she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Nervous, her voice cracked as it echoed throughout the apartment. The hallway was pitch black, but hearing the sound of the shower running, she immediately felt relieved. She ran her hand along the plaster wall, searching for the light switch, just as a flashing yellow spark emanating from Rodriguez’s shotgun, illuminated the hallway. A deafening blast rang out as the powerful shotgun’s deadly shells whizzed through the air.
Leslie let out a faint scream, as the shells violently blasted through her back, sending chunks of her lungs and heart flying out of her chest plate. The comforter fell to the floor, as her naked body flailed forward crashing grotesquely into the dining room’s glass table, which shattered into a thousand pieces under the weight of her lifeless body.
The sound of the shotgun had startled Nan, who was now standing outside of the shower, drying his body off with a towel. He quickly flipped the light switch off, scrambling to put his boxers on as he opened the closet door where the linen was stored. His heart was beating so fast, that he thought it would explode out of his chest.
He kneeled down on the bathroom’s cold ceramic tile, and began scrounging through unopened toilet paper and maxi pad boxes that were scattered about. He ran his hand around the back of the closet floor until he felt the cold steel of the 9mm semi-automatic he had stored there. He never told Leslie about the gun, and had purposely placed it way in the back so she wouldn’t find it. Still fishing around, he finally came across the full clip that he stored separately.
Rodriguez noticed the light go out from a small crack under the bathroom door, and immediately started walking in its direction. She peered down the hall and noticed Digangi standing in the dining room, hovering over Leslie’s body. Her body lay still, contorted from the fall and unsuspected blast. Digangi got down on one knee, checked for a pulse, confirming that she was dead. With a nod to Rodriguez, he completed a sweep of the kitchen area.
Rodriguez continued down the narrow hallway, stopping mid-stride before placing her back up against the wall just outside of the bathroom. She could hear Nan frantically fumbling about behind the door. She gripped her shotgun tightly in anticipation, and taunted, “Nan, just come out of the room, Poppi. We just want to talk to you.” She waited for a reply, but received no response. Silence fell between her and the door, causing her anger to elevate sharply.
Her mock announcement alerted Digangi, who silently settled in on the other side of the doorframe. He positioned himself in preparation for an ambush. Grasping his glock in his hand, he looked at Rodriguez for direction. She pointed towards the door. Nodding her head, she held two fingers up, ordering their attack on the count of two. Digangi nodded intently, patiently waiting for the moment to pounce. Invigorated, Rodriguez begin her rant once again.
“Nan, we gotta talk baby. It don’t gotta go down like this Poppi.” This time she squealed a more condescending tone, overlapping her vile accent.
Nan sat on the bathroom floor, listening attentively to the voice on the other side of the door. He knew it very well. He also heard the other set of footsteps that crept across the hallway floor, before settling somewhere between the kitchen and the bathroom. He didn’t know how many pigs were out there, but he knew that by the sound of things, Rodriguez brought a death squad with her. His mind drifted to Leslie. “What the hell had they done to her?” He heard her scream earlier, and the thought of anything happening to her made him sick to his stomach.
“The money’s under the kitchen sink. Just take it all…don’t f*ckin’ shoot!” Nan frantically yelled out in desperation. He was holed up in the bathroom with nowhere to go. The one window in the bathroom was too small for him to squeeze out of. Besides, it had steel bars on the outside of it, like the rest of the windows in the apartment.
Digangi looked over at Rodriguez, who whispered, “We gotta finish him.”